Today dishes sat in my sink from dinner last night. They’re still there, along with dishes from this evening. My vacuum has been sitting out since yesterday. I still haven’t finished. Isn’t this the time spring cleaning whims are supposed to kick in?
Today, Morgan spit up a million times. This last time, before bedtime, it was a lovely shade of orange due to the puréed Gerber carrots he woofed down at dinner. And this time it got on the carpet. And all over my shirt. And all over my jeans I just washed. I may have said a bad word under my breath. I should really work on that. It’s just that within hours, my clothes hamper is now halfway full again and I just did wash this morning.
Tonight, I’m tired.
When I became a mother, I wasn’t magically transformed. The days I spent pregnant were spent preparing. Reading parenting books. Eating. The nights, those restless, sweltering nights were spent in wonder at how parenthood would soon become a reality to me.
How unprepared I was. Those first few weeks eventually melted into those first few months, and my arms flailed like crazy. Still, sometimes at night, I flail. To be entirely depended upon every single moment of everyday can make a person crazy.
At least, it pushes me to the brink of craziness most days. Because of puke. Because of baby teeth popping through skin. Because of bad, bad cases of the fussies. Because of piling laundry and unfolded clothes. Unmade beds and dishes. Because I can’t do everything and everything can’t be done in the split of a second like it used to be done back when I was much younger. Back when I was rested. Back five months, three weeks and four days ago. Before Morgan.
Tonight, I am tired. Exhausted, really.
But, really, to be entirely depended upon every single moment of every day is incredible. It is transforming me. Who do I depend on every single moment of every day? Who am I trying to be like? Who has given me this holy opportunity to learn a little more? To grow a little more.
I suppose I am transforming. Every single day, I change. My perspective changes. At nights, when the vacuum is left out and the clothes are unfolded and the dishes are piled high in the sink, I pray I can mold myself to be whatever I need to be. For Morgan. And for Jared.
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Tonight, I laid next to Morgan. I watched him squirm. I watched him run his hands up and down the side of his bed, feeling the small holes in the mesh. I watched him meet my gaze. He smiled and lifted his eyebrows. He has two teeth now. He's irresistable. He yawned, and fidgeted, then he told me he was hungry, the way he always does (coughing/crying without tears). Then I scooped him up and kissed him a million times.
Yes, I’m tired. Yes, my house is a disaster. Want to come see?
Who really cares?
Not me. Not tonight.
Jared.is.waiting.for.me. Morgan is asleep. The house is very quiet.
And I, I am very
l
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c
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y
girl.
Hollie, You are such a good mom, and wife! I too have learned to let the little things slide. I have learned that having the dishes done and everything put away in its perfect place really isn't that important, that what is important is Clay and Mea and that I need to be the best I can for them and if that means I don't get the dishes done so be it. I love reading your blog it always put things into perspective for me, thanks!
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